Sunday, May 23, 2010

So what is it called if 'sacred' is not the word? Is the answer in the quest to understand the sacred and profane?And why does just the sound of those two words 'sacred' and 'profane' conjure images of beauty and ugliness, of the transcendent and the heart of darkness? Does my 'sacred' by definition relegate yours to 'profane'? Can there be more than one sacred? Is there more than one 'holy'?
I can bow from the waist and not bend my neck. I readily admit I was born a willful child and learned early how to bow without bowing. Does such a bow make the sacred profane? When the ornamentation of the sacred passes by do I desecrate it when I do not avert my eyes? I mean no sacrilege, I only want a glimpse of the face of sacred. And if I want to transform the bread and wine into the sacred but wear not the robes or title is it an act of heresy and ignorance? What if my only desire is to feed those who know a hunger and thirst beyond the wheat and grape?
And what of the times, when, without thinking I bend my neck in wonder and awe, caught in the feeling of "smallness" in the presence of "grand"? What of the sunrise that always makes my neck bend? What of the morning doves that call to each other before sunrise, one above me and one distant, trading their songs back and forth? What of the first night snow in winter? What of the gentle hand stroking the forehead of a loved one who is ready to move on to the next life? What of those who leave family and jobs to clean oil from the birds and the once white sandy beaches? What of the one who stood in front of a tank in China and changed the world? What of those who brought nations to their knees without raising an army, firing a gun or dropping a bomb? What of the poem, the painting, the song that both suspends time and transports us across time? Are these not sacred?
Perhaps sacred is that which I notice. I set apart and keep in the forefront of my every day life. I pay attention and do not take for granted. I tend to it. I nurture it. I give it honor by bending my neck. It is both within and without, a part of me and a part of the world around me. Perchance what is truly sacred is that which does not divide or command but unites and offers.

I honor the place in you in which the entire universe dwells. I honor the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light, and of peace. I honor the place in you where, if you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us. Namastè

I honor the place in you in which the entire universe dwells. I honor the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light, and of peace. I honor the place in you where, if you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us. Sacred.

About Me

I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.